“She has a very pleasant shape,” I said. “Don’t you think so, Brulde? I’ve always found her to be quite comely, especially now that she is all grown up. So what do you think? Do you think she would really accept us as mates?”
“I would be more worried about her father!” Brulde said, tossing a bit of tree bark into the water lapping near our feet. As always, he was overly worried about the Neanderthal men. He glanced at them warily, running the pad of his thumb over the scar on his cheek.
I looked down the river at the Fat Hand. She looked up at me from her basket of berries. She smiled and ducked her head.
Her relatives were knee deep in the glimmering current, naked and stabbing the water with their sharpened fishing sticks. They were paying no attention to us.
Eyya glanced at her father, saw that his back was to her and set her basket aside. She shot me a meaningful look and slipped nimbly into the rushes.
Brulde laughed. “See? I told you!” Then in a low voice, “Do you want to go mate with her? She does have nice breasts.”
“Why not?” I said with a grin. “Who cares what the other men think?”
I had already mated with most of the young women in my tribe, and Brulde and I had been Practicing since we sprouted the first hairs on our organs, yet I had begun to feel lonely. I desired a female companion. Someone to love me, someone I could care for and protect. I sometimes imagined having little babies of my own to play with. Always, when I felt like I needed those things, I thought of Eyya.
My father, of course, would be thrilled. He’d always shared my respect for the Neanderthals.
Brulde and I stood and, plucking our spears from the muddy riverbank, followed the young Fat Hand into the rushes.
5
Eyya had taken off her garments and spread them in a clearing to recline on while she awaited us. As Brulde stood watch, I slipped off my clothes and kneeled beside her. I stared into her dark eyes as I undressed. Her golden skin gleamed in the late afternoon sunlight. I wanted to put my lips to hers. I wanted to run my palms across the soft fullness of her figure, feel her smooth curves and the swell of her belly and breasts.
“I remember mating with you as a child, Gon,” she said breathlessly, speaking our language. She stroked her hand through my hair, gazing at the strands with a wondering expression as they slid through her fingers. The hair of my people had a finer texture than her own. She looked me in the eyes then, smiling mischievously, and said, “You had a funny-looking penis. It was so tiny!”
I laughed. “It might be funny looking, but it's grown a lot larger.”
“How much larger?”
“I think it might be big enough to crack that nut now.”
She laughed. “We'll see about that!”
She lay back and I unfastened my chopsop-- our word for loincloth-- with trembling fingers. I had risen already, and was pleased to see her lusty expression when she caught sight of what I had to offer her.
“Pretty,” she said, opening her legs to me. Her nipples were erect, her lips moistly parted.
“It’s not pretty,” I corrected her. “It’s big and strong.”
“Then put it in me, nut-cracker.”
She put her arms around me as I descended on her. I nuzzled her neck and breasts. The smell and taste of her flesh inflamed me further. She reached down between us and guided my penis to her maidenhood. Her child's smooth sex was a woman’s organ now, the fleshy petals larger and firmer. The shape of her organ was strange feeling to what I was accustomed to-- hotter, more muscular, and with an odd tilt. She gasped as I moved atop her, holding me close. I squeezed my eyes shut.
“Oh! Don’t stop, Gon! I think you’ve found it!”
Eyya hissed and arched her back as she climaxed. Her nails dug into my shoulders. I opened my eyes to see her pleasure-struck face—so beautiful! At the sight of her joy, my entire body went rigid and I groaned in ecstasy. Pleasure, like surging warm waters, swept over me. And then I collapsed atop her, wheezing, and she laughed at how much I'd sweated.
When I could stand again, I stood watch as Brulde coupled with her.
He was not too shy this time. Watching us mate had aroused him tremendously. He went to her eagerly, clutching a penis so tight-skinned it looked like it would burst before he even got it inside of her.
She ushered him into her arms, inside her body, and they mated quickly. He tucked his face beneath her chin as he finished, his eyes squeezed shut. My companion never made much noise when he mated. He was a quiet man, even amidst the throes of passion.
We all cuddled for a few minutes when it was done, laughing and joking at the sticky mess we'd made, enjoying the afterglow of our sexual union, then Eyya's father called and she dressed quickly, looking startled and ashamed, and returned to her people at the river.
Brulde and I, sluggish and sated, tromped home to eat and nap the rest of the evening.
Before she disappeared through the reeds to rejoin her party, however, she paused and looked back at us with a teasing smile. “You were right,” she said. “You did crack that nut.”
Spent as we were, Eyya's comment put a little extra strut in our step when we trekked home.
6
Over the course of the next few days, Brulde and I tried to convince Eyya to join us in marriage. When we were not busy mating in the bushes, that is! Our proposition intrigued her, but she was hesitant to discuss the idea with any real seriousness. She finally told us to take our proposal to her father. Neanderthal men bartered for their daughters. If we could accumulate a respectable dower-- and he thought us worthy of his favorite child-- he might allow us to marry her, But Eyya was not very confident we could convince the man to give her to us.
The next day, I presented her imposing sire with an offering of smoked venison and fish, a large assortment of fine weapons and tools and several piles of furs, and then I asked for his daughter’s hand in marriage.
Veltch looked shocked, though not overly upset. He shifted his gaze to Eyya, who stood meekly beside him, and questioned her.
“Do you want these men to be your husbands?” he asked his daughter, speaking in their tongue.
“Yes, father,” she said, eyes averted.
He mulled over the idea for a minute or two. Our offering, I knew, was respectable. Most of it was borrowed from my father, and my father’s cousin Kort-lenthe, but it was a proper dower. Eyya had coached us how to approach her sire and how much to offer for her so that her father was not insulted, but the big man wasn’t entirely convinced. Jerking a fat thumb at the two of us, the Neanderthal said, “But this one is so small. And there are two of them! That is not our way. Would you be shared by these two Fast Feet? They hardly seem old enough to provide for a family. And what if they tire of you and send you away? No Gray Stone man will want you after you have been mated to a Fast Foot.”
“If it is your will, I would marry them,” Eyya murmured.
Her father ruminated for a while, standing beside the river, and then proclaimed, “This is too strange a thing to decide on the moment. Let me return home and think over my decision, daughter. I'm sure your mother will want to have her say in the matter, too. You know how she is, Eyya. She’ll bash my head in with a stone if I don’t let her have her say.”
The Fat Hands departed amicably, Eyya in tow, and Brulde and I retired to our wetus to await his decision.
Word of our marriage proposal spread through the camp within the day, and we were the subject of a good deal of vulgar teasing, most of it coming from my brother Epp’ha, but Eyya and her father were respected in our community so the ribbing was not too harsh.
My father was pleased by the possibility of my union with a Neanderthal woman. He was renowned as a great warrior. I think the prospect of the strong hybrid grandchildren we could produce for him was enticing. Our cousin Tavet was a half-breed, and it was generally agreed upon that he was the strongest man in the tribe. Father had a lot of admiration for Tavet.
Sitting with me i
n the Elder Siede that night, smoking merje, Gan said, “Don't pay any attention to those gossiping fools, Gon. Especially your brother, who’s become much too fat and lazy for his own good. The Fat Hands are a strong and honorable people. It would be a good thing to mingle the bloodlines of our two people more often. Both of us would prosper from it.”
His approval put me at ease.
A few weeks later, Eyya, her father and several members of their tribe trooped to our camp to trade with us. Such a visit was not unusual. We often traded during the warm season. For some reason, however, many of them had brought their wives and children. Their shaman, Tuhl, had come along as well. After our people traded, Tuhl called for everyone’s attention and ceremoniously offered Eyya to Brulde and I as our wife.
Her father was reluctant to trade his favorite daughter to a couple of lanky young Fast Feet, we found out later, but Eyya had argued our case tirelessly. She convinced him our union would be good for the relationship of both our tribes, and because her mother agreed, Veltch finally caved to her designs.
That night our two groups feasted in celebration of our union. After we ate our fill, our elders pounded out a festive beat on the logs and we danced until we were exhausted.
The shaman Tuhl leapt onto a stony prominence then and growled for everyone’s attention. He was dressed in the skin of a cave bear. Eyes bleary with merje, he waved his hands and crouched dramatically. The necklace of bear teeth around his wattled neck swung with a clicking sound as his body bobbed and swayed. “Tonight we celebrate the marriage of Eyya to her Fast Feet mates Gon and Brulde, but let us not forget that there would be no men and women at all without Doomhalde and Vestra!”
Eyya curled blissfully between us, listening as Tuhl repeated her people’s well-worn genesis fable. I glanced at Brulde with a smirk, but he was eyeing the Neanderthals crowded in the cave around us, his lips squeezed tightly together.
“Before time began,” the wise man said, “Vestra, the moon, and Doomhalde, the world, were separated by the dark waters of the heavens. Doomhalde was madly in love with Vestra and chased Her endlessly around the sun, but try as He might, He could never catch Her. Vestra was like a petal on the river, and when Doomhalde pushed toward Her, the waves carried Her that much farther away from Him. He despaired of ever holding Her in His arms.
“Then, one day, the snake god Tat, who we all know is a deceiver and a trickster, came upon Doomhalde mourning in His cave. He asked Doomhalde why He mourned, and when Doomhalde explained how He could never reach His love, no matter how hard He swam, Tat struck a bargain with Him.
“’I will swim around you in a circle so that Vestra does not glide away on the water, but in exchange for my help in your seduction, Great Doomhalde, you will allow me to devour any of your children who behave foolishly or without care.’
“It was a cruel proposal, but Doomhalde could not stand to be separated from Vestra any longer. Besides, He thought, how could any of His children possibly be foolish? He was Doomhalde, the living world, the lord of all creation! So He struck the deal with the trickster. Tat encircled the two lovers so that Vestra did not float away, and the moon and the world were able at long last to consummate their love for one another.
“When Vestra was large with child, however, She found out about the pact that Doomhalde had made with Tat. As punishment for His deceitfulness, Vestra delivered Her children upon the great bear’s back and turned Her face from Him when Tat descended to devour Her children. This is why the earth chases the moon through the heavens, and this is why the moon grows full and then hides Her face in mourning. It is for love we are born, but it is for our foolishness that we, the children of Doomhalde and Vestra, must die. For there is not a man or woman among us who has not done a foolish thing!”
After Tuhl finished his fable, dream weed was thrown upon the fire and we all got pleasantly high and mated.
As much as we joked about the Fat Hands being ugly and stupid, our women didn't hesitate to mount the big men and relieve them of their sap, and our fellow Fast Feet males didn't pass up the opportunity to enjoy the hospitality of the Fat Hand women, many of whom had uncharacteristically joined this expedition to attend Eyya's wedding ceremony, and were thus unfamiliar—and novel—to the men of my tribe.
Eyya, Brulde and I coupled in the middle of this ceremonial orgy as the celebrants cast seeds upon our naked bodies. The fertility rite was a Fast Feet tradition, but the Neanderthals were happy enough to participate, especially after the cave got smoky and everyone was feeling rather loose. I’m sure it seems scandalous to you modern people, but for us it was a normal, natural, joyful event. It was a celebration of fecundity, and the life that springs of the act of love.
When I awoke the next morning between Brulde and my new Neanderthal bride, hungry and hung over from the dream weed, the Fat Hands were gone, having returned wearily to their camp at daybreak.
For a long time, I didn't move. I just lay there between my tent mates, hands behind my head. I couldn't seem to quit smiling as I measured the fortune that fate had so generously heaped at my feet. On my left, my gentle, sweet-smelling Neanderthal wife, so young and pretty in peaceful slumber. Mine, now and forever. On my right, my closest companion, strong and dependable Brulde, curling blond hair scrawled across his sleeping furs. Eyya snored softly as Brulde chased game in a dream, his right leg twitching. I think I must have been the happiest Cro-Magnon in the world.
Although I didn't know it at the time, my days as a living, breathing human were drawing to a close. The season of my human life was far too brief a summer... one that was to be followed by an eternal white winter.
My bright living life seems so brief and far away now, a dream of a dream of a dream. Unfair, really, that it should be stolen away after so short a season, but over the course of thirty millennia, I have never found life to be fair. Enjoyable, yes, exciting, yes, satisfying, yes... but fair?
Never.
7
I suppose you are somewhat confused and maybe even a little outraged by the sexual practices of my people and the family dynamics of my era. I can assure you, I was a typical man of my culture and my living arrangements were a common thing.
To me, you denizens of this modern epoch seem terribly superstitious and prudish. To my way of thinking, your culture has rejected nearly the entirety of possible human experience for an unnatural and oppressive supernatural belief system. You slice off the most sensitive and pleasurable parts of your anatomy and go mad in your attempts to stifle all sexual urges and for what... vague and contradictory promises of some afterlife reward?
Why not enjoy your brief lives as my people did? We didn't live like wild animals. We had our traditions, our rituals and customs, but our rules were much looser and more forgiving. Pleasure was freely given. No one fought over mates. Not often, anyway. There was no shame of the body and no concept of ownership, human or otherwise. If a woman wanted a divorce, she packed her belongings and left her man's tent, usually after informing him, quite loudly, of his failings. Child rearing was more of a group endeavor than an individual burden. Mates were shared and it was customary to be grateful if someone pleasured one of your partners-- for pleasure was a good thing to us, not the sinful thing it has become in this modern world.
Our spiritual practices included the use of mind-altering drugs (the dream weed, which was pronounced “merj” in our tongue, and sometimes a hallucinogenic tea we made from mushrooms called framash), the orgies we held on the nights of the vernal and autumnal equinox and during marriage ceremonies and coming-of-age celebrations, and the remembrance and veneration of our ancestors. Music and dance was a component of all these practices, often to physical exhaustion.
We believed in spirits and honored our deceased, but we did not create elaborate myths about all powerful entities or attribute a storm or the flooding of a river to the ire of some make-believe deity. A tree was just a tree; a stone simply a stone. We did not possess the concept of “sin” or “hell”. For
the things we did not understand, we had a word. It was nuhnhe. It meant “who can know?” Question: Where does the sun go at night? Answer: Nuhnhe. Usually with a shrug.
The Neanderthals believed Doomhalde was the world and we were as fleas upon the beast’s back. My people had no such myths. The origin of the world, to us, was simply nuhnhe.
The sexuality of our tribesmen and women was openly discussed, a thing to be celebrated and enjoyed, free of guilt and condemnation. It was, in fact, a subject of great interest among my people. Who had slept with who and what they thought of it. Who was leaving her husbands. Who was now with child. Absent literature and moving picture shows, there wasn’t much else to gossip about really. We weren't ashamed or afraid of our genitals. Men were not isolated and enslaved as they are now to such strict yokes of propriety and responsibility. Women in my day were true equals with their male counterparts, not the hapless possessions of men as they've allowed themselves to become in more recent centuries-- and still continue to be in some backwards nation-states.
Do I dare tell you of Brulde? I know some of you will be dismayed, perhaps even disgusted, by our relationship.
Brulde was my male companion. The word my people had for our relationship could roughly be translated today as “tent mate” or perhaps “husband”-- but that has so many negative connotations for you modern religious fanatics.
A distant cousin, Brulde was a few inches shorter than I, compact and muscular, with long curling blond hair and a thick, bushy beard. He had deep-set eyes, bluish-gray in color, a wide mouth and a tendency towards somber contemplation. He was often overly cautious, but he was loyal and he was trustworthy.
The Oldest Living Vampire Tells All: Revised and Expanded (The Oldest Living Vampire Saga Book 1) Page 3